


Small Comforts

by kangamangus (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Caretaking, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fever, Fluff, Gen, POV Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sickfic, Sneezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 13:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17101472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kangamangus
Summary: A ficlet featuring Bucky and Tony after an Avengers holiday party (canon, what canon?), in which a sick Bucky doesn’t open his secret santa gift.





	Small Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much just schmoop.

After a long evening filled with holiday treats, obnoxious Christmas music, and a lively secret santa exchange, most of the Avengers have retired to sleep off the buzz of holiday cheer. Most, Tony discovers as he makes a final pass for stray wrapping paper or anything else that might have been overlooked, except for Bucky.

Bucky is still sitting on the couch where he had spent most of the evening, his unopened secret santa gift beside him. It had been a little awkward when Bucky had accepted his gift but decided against opening it along with everyone else. When questioned about who it was from, Bucky had just replied, “Tony,” and had fallen into a silence that Tony finally broke with a joke about his shopping habits, before transitioning to Bruce.

He assumed Bucky hadn’t wanted an audience observing him unwrap his gift, but now that he sees it is still wrapped and set off to the side, he knows there’s more to it. And he comes to the conclusion that it has to do with the gifter, not the giftee.

“You know, you could have traded with someone,” he says as he walks around the couch to take a seat beside Bucky and his present. “It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings.”

Bucky is slow to look over at him, like he’s pulling himself out of a trance. He sniffles quietly, something he has been doing most of the night, as his eyes finally meet Tony’s. Tony can tell by the way Bucky follows up with a soft cough to clear his throat that the weight of a cold is poised to bear down on him.

“Why?” Bucky asks, confused by the comment. “I didn’t want to trade.”

Tony reaches to pick up the bulky present. He senses Bucky tense as he does so, but pretends he doesn’t. Normalizing everyday interactions is a slow process, and sometimes, the best thing to do is to ignore the idiosyncrasies that get in the way.

“You haven’t opened it,” he states, holding up the present, the silver wrapping paper glinting as it picks up the light. He had chosen the wrapping paper specifically because of its metallic sheen, which had reminded him of Bucky’s arm. It had seemed like Bucky’s color.

Bucky sniffs again, with a little more force this time, and rubs his nose with his knuckle in a quick, fleeting motion. Moments like these almost make him seem like a lost child instead of a hardened soldier, a disparity that even now, despite his best efforts, makes Tony a little uneasy.

“Oh,” Bucky replies. “That’s because I —” but he breaks off as his voice wavers and his breath catches. He turns off to the side and brings his hand up to his face to shield Tony from observing as he stifles two sneezes.

When he turns back, Bucky looks worn and watery eyed — and apologetic. “Sorry,” he murmurs, a hint of congestion now in his voice.

“You should get to bed,” Tony tells him, and holds the present out to him. “Sounds like you’re coming down with something.”

Bucky takes the present back and looks down at it, hair falling around his face, occluding Tony’s view of his expression. “Yeah,” Bucky replies.

He stands up, pauses, and once again turns off to the side to sneeze. He groans in the aftermath, and then sniffs miserably.

“Bless you,” Tony offers.

It’s strange how a few sneezes can affect a person, Tony thinks as Bucky straightens again. His whole demeanor has shifted and Tony can see that he is feeling worse in the way he moves, a change in gait that suggests a headache, or maybe an ache that has already spread to his muscles.

“I like it,” Bucky replies, voice now laden with congestion.

“Like what?” Tony asks. “When I bless you?” He’s kidding, of course, but Bucky doesn’t smile.

“The gift. I like it as it is. I didn’t want to…” He trails off, his breath catching again, nose wrinkling under yet another threat of a sneeze, but after a moment, he merely exhales. “Ruin it,” he finishes hoarsely, then tries to clear his throat again.

“You won’t ruin it by opening it,” Tony tells him with an amused smile. “Some might even say opening it makes the gift even better.”

“I know,” Bucky replies, then immediately sneezes. It sneaks up on him, that time, and he barely manages to turn away. When he straightens, he blinks as though he’s dazed.

Tony stands and places a careful hand on Bucky’s back. His shirt is a little damp with sweat; a fever, Tony guesses. He considers suggesting medical, but thinks that Bucky has probably had enough treatments to last a lifetime. Then he thinks about asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. for a diagnostic, but he wants to afford Bucky his space. 

“Go to bed,” is what he settles on saying, softly, sympathetically, and Bucky nods. “You can open it when you’re ready.”

Bucky leaves, taking the wrapped present with him.

The next morning, Tony isn’t surprised to find that Bucky has found his way back to the couch, where he now sleeps somewhat noisily, congestion forcing him to breathe through his mouth. He understands that sometimes, especially on a bad night, it’s easier to sleep anywhere except for bed.

He is, however, surprised to find a large piece of carefully folded silver wrapping paper on the floor next to the couch, and a soft, custom-made throw blanket, bearing the Avengers’ symbol, draped over Bucky’s body. Tony smiles, just a little, considering it a good step toward Bucky accepting that he is one of them now.


End file.
